Bio:

“Another day.. another copper,” thought Tinaroth as he shuffled his tarot deck in preperation for his next eagerly waiting customer. Lately, Tinaroth found he could scrape together a decent living flipping cards and spinning a tale for any gullable traveler in port. The merchants and sailors passing through Sartosa were always happy to hear how their future journies would be blessed, even if Tinaroth himself hadn’t the slightest idea where his patrons were traveling or what evils might befall them. He always had a knack for reading people, and being a naturally personable individual, the towns folk rarely questioned him before departing for their journies in good spirits.

On this particular evening, while enjoying a piping hot bowl of his favorite stew, Tinaroth heard a commotion outside the tavern. A number of the tavern patrons made their way outside to investigate the scream that seemed to be cut short in the cold night air. What made Tineroth push aside his bowl and join this investigation, to this day he has no idea, but it was a decision, a spiked twist of fortune that would change the course of his life forever..

History – by G.M.

Tinaroth was born to a family with a long line of actors, performers and entertainers. His family, relatives, and those that he grew up with were a small number that moved from town to town and city to city earning their way by putting on plays, storytelling, and small carnivals for the locals. His Aunts and Uncles sold vials and exotic roots from their wagon that could cure any ailment, And his friends families were often finding new, unique, shiny and often valuable things wherever they went. His childhood friends had offered to help him learn their skill of acquiring such objects, but Tinaroth always enjoyed learning from his father’s incredible musical talent.

Abaroth, was indeed a talented musician, and storyteller. He had become the most influential member of their travelling community, because he had always been so successful directing the emotions and passions of others with the songs he played on his lute~ Esmeralda.

Esmeralda had been Abaroth’s father’s and his father’s before that. Who Esmeralda was and why the lute came to be known by that name Abaroth never explained to his young son. Tinaroth had always wondered that if his father would have had the time, what the story would have been. He wondered about a lot of things, he had such insatiable lust for the gathering of why things are the way they are, and the lore of the world around him.

Tinaroth thought often of his father. It had seemed Abaroth’s fame had become such that it worked against him, leading to his untimely demise. His father’s death was never explained, other than in his last moments Abaroth imparted his son that it is imperative he must leave the group and journey to Sartosa, then he passed Esmeralda to his son, and for the first time Tinaroth held the legendary lute in his hands, it seemed to radiate something he had never felt before. Something arcane, and wonderful. The last seconds of his father’s life began to flicker as Abaroth spoke his final word, “Se- Sez…” he coughed and choked and looked to the ceiling as the final syllables left his mouth like a trailing vapor. “…Rekan”.